(You Are) Welcome to Follow Toto!

On our last trip, to Cape Disappointment State Park here in Washington, we happened upon a quaint State Department of Transportation truck scale. It was on US 101, near the coast, with maybe not so much commercial truck traffic. Oyster trucks, maybe, if there is such a thing. There was the little shed where, presumably, truck scale attendants hang out and possibly did, at one time, crossword puzzles, but now probably play JackBingo on the smartphones. Instead of the more modern digital readout, there was a round, analog, clocklike gauge, sporting a white dial with black markings and pointer, visible through the window. If you pan and zoom in below, you might be able to see it.

The scale was unattended (“Scales closed ahead”) which means, in my limited experience and according to exhaustive-if-not-trustworthy Internet research, I could use it. There was just one scale — the newer installations have as many as three contiguous weighing platforms — so we did a few measurements.

NOTE: Wally was concerned about every aspect of this operation. He had a lot to say about it. I believe Sooz ran out of dog treats trying to appease him so I could concentrate, or at least try.

We pulled TinMan’s front wheels onto the scale, then I got out, read the scale and noted the results (couldn’t read it well enough from the driver’s seat). Analog, with small gradations, not so very accurate, possibly due to my sub-optimal eyesight.

Next, we weighed TinMan, both axles, all on the scale. BARK! offered Wally. Of course this weight would include Toto’s tongue weight, because there Toto was, hooked up to TinMan.

Then we weighed Tinman’s rear axle only. Finally, we weighed Toto, with both of his axles on the scale. This wasn’t Toto’s total weight, of course, because some of that total rested on TinMan’s hitch. But we knew (actually, hoped) we could do math to calculate everything.

We also knew we needed one more measurement: TinMan’s weight without Toto attached. I discussed this with the rest of the team, who pretty much said WHAT ARE YOU DOING WE WANT TO GO HOME. So, with incomplete data and anxious-for-home passengers, I pulled back out onto the roadway. A few hours later we were home and unhitched — and I convinced the team to jump back into TinMan (who hadn’t been unloaded at all) for a brief excursion to our local Department of Transportation truck scale, only a few minutes from our house.

Here, we would be able to capture the remaining, key data point: TinMan’s weight, one axle at a time and together, loaded but without Toto leaning on his rear end. This scale is a more modern version, with two contiguous weighing platforms and a digital readout (visible only through the little window in the door). Notwithstanding the compromised accuracy of using two different scales, at different times of day, in different weather and possibly on either side of a solar flare that could somehow matter but probably not, we had our data.

That night, I made an attempt at The Math, and the results, if I did it properly, are sobering. Let’s see if I can share the useful part of the results:

We had not exceeded either of TinMan’s axle weight specifications.

Including the weight from Toto’s hitch, we had too much weight overall in (and leaning on) TinMan. We were, in fact, over his rated capacity (they call it Gross Vehicle Weight Rating) by nearly 300 pounds. We were putting too much strain on TinMan’s frame.

Too much of Toto’s weight rested on the hitch. It was roughly 100 pounds too much. Again, a strain on the frame. Not good.

It looks like the team, and the rig, need a diet, or a cargo reorganization, or both. We want TinMan to last a good, long time, and we want to travel safely. Also, if some sort of mishap occurred and an insurance company looked into things carefully, they might deny a claim because of this slight but nonetheless naughty overindulgence.

With a big trip coming up soon — more on that shortly — we have to clean up (trim down?) our act. So here’s what we’ve done.

We took odds and ends out of TinMan’s cargo bed, and we’ll transport them in the trailer. This will be slightly less convenient, but really no big deal. These odds and ends include our portable propane BBQ grill and firepit, an 11-pound-capacity propane tank, our camp chairs and ottomans, the boys’ cot, a plastic footstool and a woven campsite “rug.” It all added up to 107 pounds, and it will go in the trailer.

I removed a front-mounted hitch receiver, installed maybe two months ago, from TinMan. It weighs nearly 40 pounds. I’m getting skilled enough at backing that I think we can live without this, and the weight has to go.

We shifted heavier items away from Toto’s front storage box into other storage areas, and vice versa. That storage box is quite a bit lighter now, and I think items are better organized now than they were. We’ll see about that.

I got out our handy Sherline tongue weight scale to see the results — and I liked what I saw. I think we have reduced tongue weight by 200 pounds or so. Some of that will return when we fully load the trailer for travel, and that’s good. It’s a true balancing act: the trailer tongue has to be under 610 pounds (TinMan’s limit) but should be no less than about 12-13% of Toto’s total weight. If the tongue weight gets too low, Toto will have a tendency to fishtail (the RV-enthusiast term is “sway”) under certain conditions, and nobody wants that.

That’s about 450 I think. These scales are fairly accurate but not exactly precise. Good thing to have around though. One must weigh a trailer tongue when the trailer is level, so the scale has to sit on a pile of whatever’s handy.

So I think we’re going to be safe, and within TinMan’s and Toto’s rated capacities. We wouldn’t have to work this hard at things had we been willing to assume the responsibilities of owning a large truck. But we were not willing. For us, this is the better way. BONUS: additional incentive for the humanoids and furfoots to shed a few pounds. We’ll get right on it.

Just look at this terrific shower caddie. It’s a Command Small Shower Caddie, ordered from Amazon, of course. The product copy on Amazon’s site assured me it would be easy to install, and that it would hold stuff that wanted close at hand while showering and perhaps doing other stuff.

It really was easy to install. There are a couple of brackets that go on first (you can just see the tops of them peeking out above the back of the caddie). Those brackets get stuck onto the shower wall with something called Command Strips, which are supposed to be highly sticky, and also said to leave no trace of goo if and when you remove them.

First, you stick one side of the strips (there are four of them) onto the back of the brackets. Two strips per bracket. Be sure to get ’em stuck on there securely! Then you temporarily attach the brackets to the back of the caddie. Rub down the shower wall with isopropyl alcohol, tear off the Command Strips’ backing, and… attach to wall!

You’re not finished yet. Next you need to remove the caddie from the brackets — this is achieved with a gentle upward tug — set it aside, and then put some serious pressure on those two brackets for 30 seconds. This is how you tell them you really mean it. Next, set your timer for 24 hours, and wait.

This is so gratifying. look at how convenient this is going to be. You have your hair stuff, your face soap, and your bar soap. AND there’s a convenient hook for a shaver. I almost feel like grabbing a shower right now, except there’s no water in the trailer so never mind.

This part was really dull, but oh well. Having endured the entire waiting period, it was now time to reattach the caddie to the brackets, this time with a gentle downward pull. I swear I was gentle. I swear I did this right.

After this big win, I moved directly into the Towel Hook Phase of the operation. Same brand (Command), different hooks. Had to feel around the walls and figure out where the flat bits were, because the hooks really want to be on a flat surface.

I think I got a little vertigo during this period. Everywhere I looked, shiny, curving, uninterrupted white surfaces. Is this what it feels like to be in a blizzard? (I certainly can’t remember. I haven’t been in a blizzard for many years.) I had to keep stepping back and checking the window to keep my bearings. Seriously.

A close-up of the hooks themselves would be even duller than this shot of them at work, doing their job, holding these microfiber towels. There’s a fourth hook off to the right, but you’ll just have to imagine how it looks, because the vertigo came back and I had to get out of there.

But I got those hooks mounted, and waited the prescribed period for curing (only 30 minutes in this case), and just look how super this job is. By now I’m thoroughly impressed with myself.

What with all the beauty and vertigo I was experiencing I was compelled to exit the powder room and move on to other tasks. Back at the TotoLounge, I stared at various storage areas, wondering where I should put Toto’s small collection of tools. I had to bring the tools out of Toto’s front storage box in an effort to reduce tongue weight — that’s something we can discuss later.

As I stowed the tools, a pronounced thunk emanated from the powder room.

Ohhhhhhh.

The shower caddie — or, more specifically, the Command Strips that held the shower caddie to the wall — lost out to gravity (which always wins — always).

I did not cry. I did not say any words Mom would object to (though, admittedly, Mom’s vocabulary is getting more colorful as the years progress). I did not slam a fist into any part of Toto (still too new).

Instead, I decided to call it a day, go back to the house and up my meds. This is Your Fault, Command Strips! Oh, probably not. And here’s something interesting: the Shower Caddie, Small came with two full sets of Command Strips. Why? Well, I think we can see why.

What did I do wrong? I don’t know yet. When I figure it out I’ll share. Don’t wait up.

There is no way to miss a delivery from UPS around here. For Wally and Tyler, greeting the UPS truck is a highlight. The trucks must have a certain sound because the boys start barking as soon as the brown vehicle pulls into our little court. It could be going to any of 13 houses. Doesn’t matter. BARK. BARK. BARK. BARK. BARK. BARK until one of the humanoids dashes into the front room to shush them. Which doesn’t always work. BARK.

I was out front once when the boys went into one of these rampages. Even with doors and windows closed, it’s fully audible even to my too-many-rock-concerts ears. The UPS folk seem immune and always have a smile. It might be that they’re just glad to be getting away.

The Wall Guard is going to go outside, attached to a very rough concrete-block wall, so that when we open Toto’s front door all the way we don’t ding up the door like Sooz did yesterday.

Innocent Toto door

Nasty scary concrete wall

We knew this was a risk, and it was only a matter of time before one of us lost our balance or had a spaz attack and dinged the door. Sooz is the big winner, but she didn’t hesitate to remind me that I put the first ding in one of TinMan’s doors. We are a team in every sense of the word, I guess.

Yeah, I know that moss on the wall should be removed. Can’t do it. Too busy. It’s just good, natural, organic Northwest decor.

Oh. I have to go now. Another truck has come by. Or something. BARK BARK BARK BARK.

When we ordered Toto we thought we might have to store him someplace other than the private estate where we make our home. That’s because the estate consists of a one-story home on a standard city-size lot, and there’s not much room for recreational vehicles.

Side note: despite its diminutive acreage, our estate seems to have room enough for an abundance of weeds. Huh.

Only place for Toto: on the left, beside the house. Precious little wiggle room. Fence, and a bunch of other stuff, in the way. Squishy lawn with fragile sprinklers for an approach. Oh, dear.

We asked the folks at the Escape factory about the trailer’s dimensions, as posted on their website, to see what they truly represented. It’s a good thing we did. Example: the listed width did not include the five or six inches used up by the awning in its retracted (stored) state. With things this tight, we needed to know about every inch. Glad we asked.

To get Toto back there beside the house, we would need to (1) replace at least a portion of the soft squishy lawn with something more driveway-like, (2) move the fence and gate toward the street so there would be room for Toto behind it, (3) move (or remove) one of two small sheds, (4) cut back overhanging trees from the neighbor’s yard (they graciously allowed us to do that), and (5) move our heat pump’s outdoor unit back toward the back yard, so Toto would have room to fit.

Eeesh. This is going to be expensive.

But we figured that it would pay for itself over time, in saved storage rental fees. And we’re pretty sure the trailer is more secure from evil thieves and vandals if it’s stored here next to our house, behind a locked gate, where the vicious terriers can protect it.

I agonized for a while: concrete? blacktop asphalt? gravel? pavers? In the end, economics led me to mostly gravel, with a pad of pavers where Toto’s tires would rest. The lawn would disappear altogether, but we wouldn’t take the gravel all the way to the street. This was an effort to keep our front yard from resembling an airport runway — that driveway is big enough, for Pete’s sake. So we would need a small landscaped area for street appeal and to put up the appearance of being good neighbors.

Grass gone. Sprinklers rerouted. TV cable barely escaped destruction. Gate gone. One of two sheds gone. You can see the heat pump that will have to move.

Here come the gravel and brick edging! The sand goes under the brick, and under some pavers where Toto’s wheels will rest. Yeah, you’re right, that’s not enough gravel. We had to get a few more yards after this batch.

Here’s how it looked at the end. The shrubs are all babies, but they’ll grow.

Toto, tucked away.

Getting Toto tucked back in there is an adventure — every time. More on that later.

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